


Playing with your food

by spasticbirdie



Category: Dofus (Video Game), Wakfu
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Food Play, Guilty Pleasures, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 09:03:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14040804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spasticbirdie/pseuds/spasticbirdie
Summary: Harebourg and Amalia finally get a dinner alone.





	Playing with your food

**Author's Note:**

> An anonymous request for some more Wakfu stuff, a bit saucier this time!

“Everything to your liking, Amalia?”

The dining room was surprisingly small. She’d noticed that her first meal there, a day-after-the-wedding feast with a few important members of Frigost’s governance. The feast after the wedding proper had been in the great hall, with almost all of the small island’s population packed in for a great, explosive celebration, but that meal had been much smaller and more focused, a meet-and-greet for the new queen.

This room, in contrast to the high vaulted ceilings and grand pillars of the hall, was much more understated, the only extravagance being the wide window that ran the length of the room and looked out over Frigost’s frozen plains. Even the long table that had accommodated the many guests from last time had been replaced with a smaller, more intimate table; Harebourg had joked about not wanting to have to shout to reach Amalia’s ears. It was actually the same table, he said, but its shape and size could be modified with an easy spell.

Amalia started momentarily, looking up from her plate. Across the table, Harebourg was looking at her with a calm smile that seemed to hide a twinge of concern. He was dressed a little less formally than usual, but even his casual dress was a sight to see; a white, buttoned-down shirt with wool cuff and collar, his usual cape thrown over the back of his chair. Amalia had on a warm shawl with her usual Sadida-grass top beneath; she still felt attached to the garment, but the cold of Frigost made it a bit impractical to wear by itself.

Harebourg paused a moment, setting his utensils down. “You seem distracted.” It was a statement, not a question, but not an unkind one.

“Ah…” Amalia muttered. “It’s nothing. Just… a long day, I suppose.” She gave a small smile.

Harebourg nodded. “I suppose. And it has been a while since we both got to sit down together, hasn’t it.”

Amalia knew  _ that. _ Since the whirlwind wedding, both of them had been busy working towards the merger of their two kingdoms, leaving neither of them any time alone and barely any with each other. Amalia had been back and forth to the Sadida Kingdom three times in as many weeks, once just to reassure her father she wasn’t being mistreated here.

_ We barely even had a wedding night,  _ popped into Amalia’s mind, and she pushed the thought away.

Smiling in a way she hoped was reassuring, Amalia picked up her fork and began picking at her food again.  _ I should enjoy this, _ Amalia thought. The meal was excellent as always, a fine spread of Frigost and Sadida’s best. Frigost was no slouch at agriculture, even with the cold weather, but even they couldn’t grow some of the things Sadida could. On the flipside, the various kinds of saltwater fish in Frigost were rarities in Sadida. Food was another way both countries were benefiting from their union, giving both peoples a whole new set of dishes to enjoy.

Even so, Amalia kept to the vegetable and fruit spreads on the table, with her fish untouched to the side. She picked away at her salad, taking little, almost reluctant bites. The dish itself was excellent; a mix of greens and some of the best vegetables Sadida had to offer. Normally, Amalia would be digging in.

But today, she couldn’t find it in her to do much more than just move her food around her plate. Amalia stared at the colorful veggies before her and sighed.

“You...haven’t touched the fish.” Harebourg spoke up again, a note of concern in his voice.

Amalia stiffened, trying not to look at the plates piled with seafood just to her right. She looked up as she heard Harebourg’s chair scrape back, and saw him circle the table to where Amalia’s dishes were. Concern and annoyance mingled on his face. “Is something the matter with it? I swear, I’ll be making some changes to the kitchen staff if-”

“I-It’s fine!” Amalia blurted out. “It’s just, uh, I don’t eat fish,” she lied. Her gaze dropped to her lap. There was something about Harebourg’s face that made it hard for her to lie right to it; the gentle, serene grace he exuded, the constant, welcoming half-smile on his lips.

Harebourg blinked - or rather, winked in surprise - and nodded. “I understand. You really should have said something, dear.” He took the plate of fish in one hand and slid it towards his side of the table, and made to gently put his other hand on Amalia’s shoulder.

She flinched back, almost involuntarily, and Harebourg’s hand stopped. His smile turned rueful. “Suppose I can’t blame you.” He took his seat again and resumed eating. “I do wish you would have told me. An allergy, or…?”

“Um…” Amalia stammered. “Something… like that…”

She looked up from her lap to see Harebourg had already cut a bite of the fish, and his fork was halfway to his mouth. Her own fork froze mid-stab as she watched Harebourg quickly, calmly slip the bite in his mouth, chew twice, and swallow.

He noticed her staring, and she noticed him notice her. Once again, Amalia fixed her stare back on her plate and went back to moving her vegetables around.

Harebourg smiled, now a knowing, slightly mischievous expression. “You know…” he said conversationally as he cut another bite of fish. “I have been doing quite a bit of research of Sadida.”

“Hmm,” Amalia responded tonelessly. She kept sneaking glances up at Harebourg, his plate, and his bites of fish that always seemed to be just passing his lips when she looked.

“I mean…” Harebourg chuckled. “What kind of husband would I be, to know nothing about my wife’s homeland?” He took another bite and smiled at Amalia, his face full of warmth.

“Oh…” Amalia mumbled. She forced herself to take another bite of her salad. It was delicious; crisp, fresh, and flavored with a sweet dressing.

It was delicious, but… she couldn’t bring herself to really  _ enjoy _ it. Or rather, there was something else she wanted.

“And…” Harebourg paused, setting his utensils down again. “I suppose I really should have remembered this earlier. It’s my mistake, but...I seem to remember there’s a bit of a...taboo, is it?”

Amalia flinched, which did not go unnoticed. Harebourg went on. “Surrounding meat, that is.” He cut another piece of fish. “Not that it’s, say, entirely forbidden, but more...frowned upon, yes?”

“Y-Yes…” Amalia gave a small nod. She was openly staring now, and Harebourg was taking his time with his food. Her eyes were locked on his hands as he slowly cut his fish, slicing a neat, perfect cube from the meal on his plate.

“Well…” Harebourg lifted his next bite to his lips, and stopped. “I don’t mean to, how to say this, put you on the spot, but…”

Suddenly, so fast Amalia barely even noticed it, the table shrank. Harebourg’s chair pulled up close to hers, the plates rattling a little at the sudden contraction of the table. She started a little, jumping in her chair, but Harebourg merely smiled, his covered eye glowing with a soft, bluish warmth.

“Would you like a taste?” Almost lazily, he pointed his fork to Amalia, the little bite of fish speared on the end, a knowing, inviting smile on his face. He waved the fork side to side, slowly, watching Amalia’s eyes follow it.

Amalia hardly even noticed Harebourg’s smile, or his eye taking in her expression, or the way his hand was gently, almost lazily holding the fork. She was staring at the fish speared on the end of his fork. Up close, she could see the white flesh, the small droplets of juice and sauce leaking off of it, the rippling skin a bluish-green color.

“I wouldn’t wish to force you, of course,” Harebourg said, his voice sounding a bit distant to Amalia’s ears. “Only if you’d wish to. Icefish is...well, not a delicacy, but it’s rather rich for such a staple food. It’s especially delicious in a fricasse and garnished with vegetables, which we’re often at loss for…” He smiled, still watching Amalia’s brown eyes trace back and forth as he traced lazy circles in the air with his fork. “Of course, with you here-”

He was cut off as Amalia lunged forward, catching the fork in her mouth like a reversal of a fisherman, one almost-desperate bite consuming the chunk of fish. She felt the slippery icefish hit her tongue and shivered as she bit into it, the soft, wet flesh parting between her teeth, a total change from the hard crunch of plants. It was wholly sweet and savory, like an explosion in her mouth.

She chewed, swallowed almost regretfully, feeling the fish slide over her tongue and down her throat. Finally, Amalia opened her lips, sighing with satisfaction, her eyes closed in bliss.

“Good?”

Amalia’s eyes shot open. Harebourg was still sitting there, an amused expression on his face, chin resting on his hand which still held the fork daintily between two fingers.

Her face flushed instantly. Hand curling in her lap, she stared pointedly away from Harebourg’s smile and nodded shortly.

“Another?” There was the clinking of silverware and the scrape of his knife against the plate, and the table creaked as he leaned forward again. Amalia didn't have to look up to know what he was doing; leaning forward, easy smile on his face, fork between his fingers with another piece of that delicious, mouthwatering fish speared on it…

Once again, she couldn’t resist. Amalia darted forward, mouth closing around the offered morsel. This time, she held the fish in her mouth before chewing, savoring it, rolling it around on her tongue, her lips still closed around Harebourg’s fork like a fish on a hook. She felt the hard metal of the fork where it met the soft flesh of the fish, felt the slightly rugged and rippled skin, felt it part between her teeth and almost pop like a sweet balloon.

Harebourg barely flinched at Amalia’s lunge. He was simply watching her indulge, her eyes closed in bliss, her soft brown lips locked together around his fork, her hands in her lap as she squirmed with contentment in her seat.

Finally, Amalia swallowed, letting out another sigh, one slightly shaky with pleasure. Her hands were bunched in her lap, squeezing handfuls of her long skirt. She opened her eyes, meeting Harebourg’s gaze easily now.

With a wordless smile, Harebourg cut another piece of fish and offered it to her. But right as Amalia leaned forward, her mouth open and tongue out just a tad, his fork pulled back and darted to his mouth, the fish disappearing in a flash.

A petulant groan escaped from Amalia even as she shut her mouth on it. Harebourg smiled, set his fork and knife down, and leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, his calm, open face coming closer and closer to Amalia’s.

He opened his mouth, revealing the piece of fish being held daintily between his teeth, not bitten into, still a clean, perfect cube.

Amalia found herself leaning forward to meet him, eyes torn between the tantalizing bite of fish between his teeth and the almost-hypnotic glow of his eye. Her eyes slowly slipped shut, mouth opening in anticipation as she leaned forward.

His lips felt surprisingly soft, not as cold and cracked as she would have expected. And he was gentle, too; the only intrusion to her mouth was the bite of fish being pushed inside, with his tongue withdrawing respectfully right after. She tasted the icefish again, but this time it felt… lacking, somehow.

Harebourg was the one to break the kiss, pulling away easily but not suddenly, in a way that left Amalia wanting and sensing that he was wanting too. The bite of fish nearly fell out of her mouth before she realized she was almost slack-jawed and closed her lips around it, chewing it almost automatically, no longer in the ecstacy of savoring the taste. She sat back in her chair, her legs feeling suddenly shaky.

A sudden scrape of wood on stone shook Amalia from her reverie. Harebourg was looking out the window and standing up.

He caught Amalia’s glance and smiled to her. “Goodness, it’s grown rather late, hasn’t it.” He sighed. “I suppose I’ll retire for the night. Don’t worry about the mess, the kitchen staff should see to it.” He grabbed his cloak, rounded the table and began walking for the door. “Have a good night, my d-”

He was stopped by the sudden, barest tug on the hem of his cloak. Amalia was staring at the table, one hand balled in her lap, the other balled around Harebourg’s cloak.

“I…” She swallowed, still able to taste the fish. “I… Would… Maybe…”

She jumped as her chair was pulled back and Harebourg offered her his hand. “Would you like me to escort you to your chambers, my lady?”

Amalia didn’t take his offered hand. A pregnant pause hung in the dining room.

Harebourg lowered his voice. “Or… would you like to come to mine?”

Still blushing and staring at the wood of the table, Amalia nodded and took his hand.


End file.
